


Those Happy Golden Preteen Years

by TheArtStudentYouHate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Parent Mycroft, Parent!lock, Preteen child, Puberty, and poor mycroft is so out of his depth, it sucks so bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 13:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtStudentYouHate/pseuds/TheArtStudentYouHate
Summary: Mycroft and Greg's daughter is growing up... and poor Mycroft has no idea what to expect.





	Those Happy Golden Preteen Years

**Author's Note:**

> So I kinda wrote this a while back because I had really bad PMS and my boobs were really, really sore and whenever that happens I am reminded of how terrible puberty was when they were first growing and how painful they were all the time and just how shitty that phase is in general. And I was also reminded of my mother telling me about how shortly before my sister first got her period she was crying in the middle of the night and finally admitted that she had no idea why and I think that can sum up my entire puberty experience. Feeling horrible, being brought to tears and absolutely no cause for it other than your body is changing and it's all too much too fast. So I guess I wrote this in sympathy with all of the poor kids who have to go through this and also all of the parents who can empathize with their kids, but can't do much other than tell them that it'll pass.

Mycroft Holmes had fallen absolutely in love with his daughter the moment he laid eyes on her. This tiny little bundle wrapped in a blanket, so helpless and dependent on him, how could he not love her immediately. When people would visit, Greg nearly had to pry her out of Mycroft’s arms to allow others to see the baby. He dutifully took down all of her measurements and marked down any significant changes and before he knew it, she was attending preschool. The night before was filled with excitement on her part and anxiety on his. But she went and Mycroft made sure to get off work early enough to pick her up on her first day. When she frowned after he asked her how her first day was, his heart leapt in his throat.

“Fine. I guess,” she replied, “but I didn’t learn anything.”

Mycroft felt his heart start again as he chuckled. “Well it was only the first day, darling. I’m sure they’ll teach you something soon. For now, you can impress the teachers with how smart you are.”

 

She eventually, of course, learned a great many things. Things that her fathers expected like maths and science, and unexpected things like when she very excitedly told them about how her schoolmate Jenny’s mummy got pregnant.

 

As she continued to grow and learn, Mycroft was there as often as he possibly could (which was surprisingly often as most people learned very quickly that England took second place to his family) for each scraped knee, upset tummy, and the class rabbit dying.  

 

Mycroft and Greg talked often about their growing daughter. Commenting that time was moving so quickly. “Wasn’t it just yesterday we were potty training her? Molly just bought her a training bra,” Greg would say with a laugh. 

“She is growing so quickly. Nearly a teenager now. I don’t know how I’ll survive it.”

 

And finally one night, he’s sure that he can hear sniffling so he wakes Greg up and says “I think she’s crying. Do I… do I go to her?” and Greg says “No. Leave her be. If she’s acting odd tomorrow at all we can talk to her.” So Mycroft lies back down, but doesn’t fall asleep because he’s worried. That’s his little girl and she’s been growing up so fast and what if something is horribly wrong. She’s so smart, like him and has freckles and red hair and what if the kids are picking on her just like they did to him and he just lies there with all of this racing through his mind so fast that he doesn’t hear the small patter of feet and the sound of sniffles growing closer until there is a very small, quiet, hesitant knock on the door. Mycroft bolts upright in bed, with Greg moving a little slower. “Come in,” he calls quietly, so worried that he won’t know how to fix whatever is hurting his baby. Very slowly, the door opens and her little face pokes around the corner, blotchy and streaked with tears. 

“What is it, baby? Come in,” Greg says.

She walks into the bedroom hesitantly, sniffling loudly. 

Mycroft can feel his heart in his throat.

“I’m so sad,” she warbles, “and I don’t know why!” She bursts into great heaving sobs.

Mycroft is frozen in absolute shock, staring at his crying daughter.

“Oh, baby. Come here.” Greg motions her onto the bed. She has to crawl over Mycroft to get to Greg.

“You mean… there’s nothing wrong? You’re not hurt?” She shakes her head no. “There’s nothing wrong at school?” Again, she vehemently shakes her head. “But you’re crying,” Mycroft says, stating the obvious.

“I’m just really sad.” Greg is holding her tightly while her entire body is racked with sobs.

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” he replies, at a complete loss for what to do. Normally when she’s crying she’s hurt or frustrated and he can help in some way, but how can he help when there is nothing wrong. Greg is giving him a look over the top of her head that clearly says that he isn’t helping, but Mycroft is already very well aware of that fact.

“That’s ok, sweetie. If you’re feeling sad and need a good cry, you just cry.” Greg rubs her back reassuringly. 

She nods and turns her head into his neck, crying onto his bare shoulder. Mycroft just stays close. His hand on her ankle to remind her that he is there, even if he can’t help her like Gregory.

Finally the sniffles begin to subside and she pulls her head away from Greg but stays in his arms.

“There. How’re you feeling? A little better?” She nods. “Good. Do you think you can sleep now?” She shakes her head no.

“Would you… would you like some hot chocolate?” Mycroft tries. 

She thinks about it for a brief moment before saying, “Yeah. I  _ really _ want some chocolate,” as if this has just dawned on her.

Mycroft takes her hand and they all make their way to the kitchen where Greg begins making toast and peanut butter to dip in the hot chocolate Mycroft is preparing.

“Do we have whipped cream?” She asks.

Mycroft reaches into the fridge and pulls out a can.

“And chocolate syrup.” 

Greg reaches in the cupboard and pulls that down.

“Marshmallows?”

“You’ve already got whipped cream,” Mycroft says, then sees her lower lip begin to wobble and reaches over for the bag.

Finally the hot chocolate is ready and everyone enjoys it quietly. When she finishes, she kisses them both on the cheek before heading back to bed.

“You did a great job, My,” Greg looks at his husband proudly.

“You’re the one that knew what you were doing. What could possibly have brought that on?”

“She’s at that age.” Greg shrugs. “You should’ve seen my sisters at this age. Complete wrecks. But the worst of it should pass soon. Then it’s just normal teenager stuff.”

Mycroft hoped that the fear that sentence brought on wasn’t visible on his face. Greg chuckled and kissed him. 

“It’s alright. She’s a good kid with a lot of people that love her.” Greg took his hand as they made their way back to bed.

 

It was a few days later that Mycroft received a message stating that Anthea had sent a car to school to pick her up early with a clean set of clothes and a supply of “feminine products” and that it would be a good idea to pick up a tub of her favourite chocolate ice-cream on his way home as well.

**Author's Note:**

> If you for some reason want to find me, I'm theartstudentyouhate on tumblr and yourfavouritehufflepuff on twitter


End file.
